


Star Wars: Rise of the Dragon

by Robin_the_Ylissian_Grandmaster



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars: Lost Stars - Claudia Gray
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Romance, F/M, Force-Sensitive Original Character(s), Gen, Justice, Legends, Military, Military Training, No Sequel Trilogy, Post-Battle of Yavin, Pre-Battle of Yavin, Rebellion, References to Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008), Royal Imperial Academy, Strategy & Tactics, War, War Crimes, Xenophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 11:07:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24968701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robin_the_Ylissian_Grandmaster/pseuds/Robin_the_Ylissian_Grandmaster
Summary: On the secluded Planet of Cymru, an orphan named Arthur finds himself forced to attend the Royal Imperial Academy on Coruscant and serve in the Imperial Army in order to avoid going to prison for the rest of his life. Orphaned during the Clone Wars, raised in a unique culture, and belonging to an unknown species, he is faced by the reality of the corruption in the Empire and its War Machine. Will he sit by and facilitate a tyrannical regime or awaken his dormant powers to find his true self in rebellion. (Mostly set in Legends for everything Post-Clone Wars. Inspired by Claudia Gray's Lost Stars.)
Relationships: Leia Organa/Han Solo, Mara Jade/Luke Skywalker, Original Male Character(s)/Original Female Character(s), Thane Kyrell/Ciena Ree





	Star Wars: Rise of the Dragon

The Cymru System was a Mid-Rim system bordering the Unknown Regions and close to the Codia System, but was just out of reach of the Hutts. It was home to five terrestrial planets orbiting a single sun with only one planet being habitable, the planet of Cymru. The planet was initially overlooked during the colonization of the Mid-Rim due to its unfavourable geography; vast oceans made up most of the surface and the few land masses it boasted were mountainous and hilly with what little flat terrain it had located near the equator. Most land masses were located in the northern hemisphere and concentrated in two continents with a string of islands connecting the two. 

Climate on the major continents was temperate with plenty of rainfall to turn their little arable land into fertile farmlands. The main islands of Prydain experienced the most rain due to oceanic currents and made initial settlement difficult for the stranded colonists, but fruitful after years of adapting. Due to their northerly position, summers had long and warm days, but were countered with short and harsh winter days.

Settlers first arrived in a seed colony nearly two thousand years before the Mandalorian Wars and were comprised entirely of humans of Coruscanti stock. The initial settlers were cut off from the rest of the galaxy and would not reconnect until three hundred years before the Clone Wars. As a result of this isolation, the settlers developed a language and culture so unique and incomprehensible that most linguistic and cultural scholars balked at the prospect of deciphering the etymological clusterfuck. All confusing aspects of their culture aside, the colonists were able to industrialise using the ample coal reserves initially before they transitioned to renewable resources that exploded their industries. Such advancements drove them back to the stars to make the first reconnections and eventually catch up to galactic standards.

The planet of Cymru was, as far as the majority of Mid-Rim worlds were concerned, pretty out of the way and not as intertwined with the rest of the galaxy, especially when compared to the likes of Naboo and Bothawui. The system’s isolation and self-sufficiency were mostly due in part to how impossible it was to integrate into Cymry society and their unyielding laws that made it immeasurably difficult for galactic corporations and even the Trade Federation to set up on the planet. The Clone Wars barely even touched the system as planetary security, the Royal Garrison, and native mercenaries fervently repelled both Separatist and Republic militaries.

Even when the Empire rose to power, the Cymry openly defied any Imperial threats to their enjoyed autonomy, and the Empire decided that it would cost too many lives and too many resources to fight a people that knew how to use their mountainous geography and would fight to the bitter end. In response to their defiance, the Empire negotiated for an Imperial presence on the planet but conceded Imperial regulation of the local economy, religion, militias, and position of the Royal Family. The Emperor made sure it was a quick and quiet affair so as not to disrupt nor jeopardise the process of reining in the rest of the galaxy under the New Empire.

Chapter 1: Felons

7 BBY, 993 RR (Ruusan Reformation), 15th Day of the 7th Month.

Caerdydd, Capital of Cymru, Mid-Rim Worlds.

“We finish this job, we’ll be free of our debt,” the Kiffaran boy in the passenger seat reassured the other occupants of the enclosed speeder. “We finish this, we’ll be free of Count Fynydd.”

Arthur rolled his eyes at the proclamation from their leader, Llywelyn, they would never be free from someone as powerful and manipulative as Count Fynydd. Not with how skilled their little ragtag group of teenage felons were and how lucrative their field of work was. And thanks to the advanced hearing his pointed ears granted him, Arthur could tell that the two others in the back seats were just as skeptical about their prospective freedom.

Arthur had parked their speeder outside a bank located in one of Caerdydd’s suburbs, the target for their final heist, and waited for the planned moment of their attack. It was a simple plan, but an efficient one built upon three weeks of scouting and planning, where Llywelyn, Meinwen, and Talfryn, armed with illegally obtained old DC-15s blasters, would charge into the facility, stun sentient guards, blast security droids and turrets, force the staffers to open the vault, steal a million credits worth of backing gold bullion, and head out the back door where Arthur would be waiting in the docking bay. He would then use his superior, self-taught flying skills to get them the Hell out of the capital so they could stay low for a few days before they took their cuts and delivered their final payment to Count Fynydd.

“Time to buck up boys and girl,” Arthur announced as he saw the right person speed away from the bank in their own speeder. “Security captain has gone to lunch; you all have eight and a half minutes the moment you enter those doors before local police and the Imps arrive.”

“Move it or lose it, ladies!” Meinwen cackled as she switched her safety off and kicked her door open.

“We’ll be done in six,” Llywelyn challenged before following suit with Talfryn and they charged up the concrete steps to the bank.

With the last of his team passing through the swivel door, Arthur switched the metal rock station on the pulse radio and piloted the speeder around the block to the lazily unguarded back of the bank. With the engine still running, he used the music to ease his nerves as the short wait stretched into what seemed like an eternity. He rubbed the gold studs that were pierced into his long and pointed ears, they seemed to calm him like a vein to his soul. He could feel the heat of mid summer build a bead of sweat in his neck-length golden curls, but the engine needed to be at full capacity with no air conditioning hindering it so he endured the heat.

Two minutes came and went, no questions asked.

Four minutes came and went, Arthur readied himself for the inevitable high-speed getaway. Fuel full, check. Coolant levels steady, check. Blaster ready, check.

Six minutes came and went, he actively gripped his blaster in case it wasn’t one of his teammates that burst out the door first.

At eight minutes, Arthur’s blond hair had darkened with sweat as his timer reached towards overtime, probably the closest they’ve ever cut it. But fortunately, his trio of comrades burst through the back door with the alarms wailing behind them. The black-haired and bob cut Meinwen and buzz cut Llywelyn were both carrying gold-loaded duffels in each hand with their blasters clipped to their belts. Talfryn covered their escape as planned but something didn’t seem right with him.

With his pointed ears, the getaway driver could hear his heart beating the fastest, and then he saw the crimson blood spattered over his chest and matted in his orange-dyed hair. “Get your sorry arses in the speeder, we’re almost behind schedule!” he yelled at them as they dropped the duffels into the cargo hold.

“Don’t yell at me!” Meinwen cried as she dived into the back seat. “Tal is the one that killed the motherfucking staffer!”

“Fucking Hell!”

“Don’t fucking blame me! That bitch was the one that started the struggle!” Talfryn countered beside her. But he didn’t seem too distraught about killing an innocent. Arthur wanted to leave him for the Imps just for that.

“Get us the fuck out of here!” Llywelyn slammed his door, “We’ll deal with this later!”

“Fucking Hell!” Arthur repeated and slammed the gas pedal.

They sped down the alley at breakneck speed only to nearly smash into an Imperial transport the moment they exited onto the main roadway. He sensed something was headed their way before he even saw it and managed to swerve around the responding authorities while they crashed into a building to avoid them.

Arthur was first to snap out of his daze and shifted the speeder to head opposite of where the Imps were facing. Llywelyn was next to come to and laid down some cover fire to distract the recovering Imps.

Once again, they were racing down the streets of Caerdydd, Arthur did his best to avoid all the bystanders, but he left most of them to their own wits to dodge the reckless felons. They just had to get to a garage three kilometres away where they could change designation plates, change clothes, and pick up fake identification chips before heading out to their rendezvous.

The gang seemed to ease up as all the sirens faded off into the distance and it would only be a few minutes until their escape was sealed. Or so they thought.

Arthur swung the closed-cabin speeder down the final back lane, but slammed on the breaks the moment he spotted the blockade of Imperial troops and an AT-ST obstructing the road. ‘That wasn’t there this morning,’ he thought.

“The Hell?” Llywelyn’s statement agreed that the blockade had not been there that morning when they checked the route. They had been waiting for them though?

The skilled pilot threw the speeder into reverse, returned to the previous road, and barely dodged an Imperial speeder chasing after them.

“GO, GO, GO!” Meinwen shrieked.

Arthur didn’t need to be told twice as he steered them down another road towards one of the many alternate routes he had devised. However, the next two alternate routes ended up being blockaded just the same as the first.

“They know our routes!” he hissed towards his leader. “I told you this was too soon after the last heist.”

“I know, I know! Damn it, just get us the Hell out of here!” Arthur could hear the panic in Llywelyn’s voice and pulse.

He did not even bother with any of the other routes, they were most likely compromised and they were out of time to check with Imperial speeders hot on their trail.

But the Pilot found that he could work with improvisation just as well, if not better, as he could with a well-honed plan. Sharp turns into back alleys, swerving around other speeders to cut off the Imps’ line of sight, running their pursuers off the road, and knocking any that dared to get too close off their rides.

After Arthur shot the last stormtrooper chasing them with a stunner, it seemed like they were finally home free. His three other teammates cheered as all seemed clear, but the pilot only felt dread well up in his stomach as the city streets became too silent. The Empire never gave up easily, they always knew how to play their cards right, and they always had a final plan.

His dread was confirmed the moment they pulled up to their garage and were confronted by a full platoon of stormtroopers, three AT-STs, and a fleet of speeders waiting to jump them. They were all dead in the water.

“Come on, let’s get these bucket heads!” Talfryn primed his DC-15s

“Stand down, you fuck-head, or we’re all dead!” Arthur spat venomously.

“What now?!” Meinwen practically cried.

“We surrender,” Llywelyn begrudgingly rasped, “We’re dead if we don’t.” Arthur nodded in agreement, at least they would technically still be alive if they surrendered.

“Step out the speeder! Drop weapons! Hands put behind head!” an Imperial captain called over a speaker in broken Cymraeg. Despite the gravity of the situation, Arthur still cringed at the foreigner’s botched attempt at speaking their language. Even Galactic Basic would have been more pleasing to the ears than that shit.

“Do as they say,” Arthur calmly ordered. Llywelyn glared daggers at him for usurping his authority, but he nonetheless followed suit and obeyed the orders. Meinwen followed with a pitiful whimper and Talfryn swore ghastly curses loudly as he wrenched his door open.

Arthur only stared with disdain at the lifeless, stark white stormtroopers that clashed with the lively and colourful nature of the native architecture, a fact that he disliked the most right after the callousness of their methods. An opinion that was only vindicated when the last illegal blaster was dropped and they were swarmed by a squad armed with buzz batons.

The last thing he could remember was the searing and bruising pain of the first two buzz batons slamming him in the chest and the shoulder. And then his mind fell into nothingness as he collapsed to the concrete pavement.

He woke with a jolt only to find his full range of motion restrained by a pair of plasma cuffs that were electrically locked to a metal table. Barring the table, his chair, and the windowless door, the room he was in was made of pristinely sterile tiles and panels with the lifeless scheme that screamed Empire. The only noise in the intermediate room was the buzzing of the old ceiling lamp that seriously needed to be replaced, but Arthur’s enhanced hearing enabled him to pick up voices and shuffles of individuals in neighbouring rooms and hallways.

He sat around motionless for what seemed like hours, his mind languished on the shit that he had managed to land in and the promise of the full wrath of the Empire. He had heard on the secret news networks of the many non-human races that had been enslaved for even the slightest of infractions, so he knew that he, an unknown species that was almost identical to humans except the pointed ears, would still get the same treatment as the Wookies had received. 

There was more to him that marked him as different from humans, but most did not appear on the surface level: enhanced hear and sight, reinforced skeletal structure, super-efficient organ system, denser muscles, and a mysterious sixth sense. The people did not of Cymru did not care that he was an alien, but that was due to the fact he had been raised on the planet since he was orphaned as a toddler during one of the few engagements the planet had seen during the Clone Wars. Even his fellow children while growing up knew not to discriminate against him, his parents’ deaths while defending the planet had sealed his place as one of their own.

And now, after all that so many had sacrificed for him and had generously given him, he had thrown everything away on that one night when he got himself mixed up with the wrong crowd, made the wrong decisions, got caught, and chose the path that led him to this shitty predicament. This was his grave that he had dug, his own Hell, and he would lie in it, praying those whose trust he had betrayed would forgive him.

His ears perked at the sound of footsteps approaching his room, footstep of a single person that would not normally be picked up by human ears. The door slid open to reveal who it was, and all hope and courage that he might have been able to summon dropped straight into his stomach.

It was the last person Arthur would have wanted to see him in this situation, Archduke Caedfal Penddraig, chancellor to the king of Cymru and the man who adopted Arthur. He shrank into his seat at the arrival of his guardian, knowing that he had failed epically to live up to his expectations and trust.

Caedfal looked beyond furious, more so than Arthur had ever seen in his life, more so than the time he had seen the man scold and punish stormtroopers for openly terrorising the boy over his alien nature. But his eyes belied his outraged temper with a deep look of sorrow.

The young felon opened his mouth to break the ice, but he was silenced when his adoptive father slammed his fist onto the desk, “Not a word until I am done, Understood?” His voice was harsher than the gentle tone Arthur knew him for, and it was rasp as though he had recently yelled at someone heatedly.

He nodded profusely to avoid irritating this new fierce demon with a verbal response.

The chancellor slightly cooled before pulling a datapad from his ornate green robes and began to read a docket of charges. “Aiding and abetting in the robbery of a royal bank, totalling six hundred thousand credits stolen.”

‘They still couldn’t do the job right,’ he internally gritted his teeth.

“Assaulted Imperial soldiers, damaged Imperial property, incited a high-speed chase, and possessed illegal and unregistered firearms,” he finished by dropping the datapad in front of Arthur to read. “You should consider yourself lucky.”

“Lucky? This will easily get me fifty years in prison!” he nearly yelled, the order for silence disregarded.

“Your friends-”

“They’re not my friends.”

“Face murder charges, have the evidence to connect them to all the other robberies, and face the prospect of enslavement on a spice mine world. You, on the other hand, the Empire has not been able to collect enough evidence to charge you with the twelve other robberies,” he ignored the interruption. He took the datapad and changed it to a different tab, but refused to show it back. “They are wasted potential that only got by because their parents had the money to keep them in secondary school, but their luck has run out and their lives are finished.”

He paused to let that information sink in and the heavy weight of his new reality fester in his mind once more. It could definitely be worse, but Hell waited for him nonetheless. His adoptive father’s face eased to a slight grimace, though sorrow still plagued his older eyes and he seemed to age another ten years.

“You, however,” Caedfal continued, “are worth a hundred of each of them and have more potential than they ever could have hoped for. You’re smarter than anyone else on this planet, you have more talent than should be possible without decades of experience, and you have the will to surpass any of your peers. And now you have gone and thrown it all away, all opportunities that I have given you, by deciding to get mixed up with these criminals.”

Arthur hung his head low; his father was right about all this being his fault for making a stupid decision. He had been a stupid kid that felt like his life was going nowhere if he did not agree to join the others in their criminal escapades, a decision that ended up getting them indebted to Count Fynydd. “I’m sorry, father,” he could feel the tears welling in his eyes as he held his head in his hands.

“It is I that should be sorry,” Caedfal countered sorrowfully, “I have raised you these last fourteen years since you were four and I have failed to teach you to make better decisions. I promised to your parents on their deathbeds that I would take care of you and raise you to be a good man that will make them proud, it was the least I could for the sacrifices they made to protect our home despite being foreigners. My greatest hope is that you will learn from this.”

“Learn from this? I’ll be spending the rest of my life in an Imperial prison!” he jerked his head up in anger.

“You forget who I am, my son,” his father broke a weak smile and brought the datapad back to his attention. “I am an archduke and chancellor to the king of Cymru, I have friends in the Imperial Senate, and I am on good terms with Grand Moff Tarkin. I have used my influences and have called in most of the favours people owe me to get this one last opportunity.”

He placed the datapad in front of Arthur to read the legal document it displayed. His eyes widened at what it entailed, “The Imperial Military Academy on Coruscant?! But I didn’t go to the preparatory academy?”

“Your grades are more than up to their standards and you earned your pilot’s license at age twelve, the youngest to ever do so,” he disputed his complaint, “As for the physical requirements, this is still a punishment but you should be able to catch up to their training standards. This your last and only opportunity, you step out of line, screw up, or flunk out and you will find yourself in prison faster than a mynock hooking up to an energy source.”

“But… but I’m too old!” he stammered, not knowing what to do with this situation. “Cadets have to be sixteen and I’m already a legal adult.”

“Then you will just have to be careful about getting too close to the other cadets,” he rolled his eyes and urged him on to continue reading the transcript. “Are you really trying to refuse your only chance the avoid serving life in prison? Once you finish the academy you will only have to serve ten years of active service and ten more in the reserves.”

As he continued to read the details of the contract, Arthur began to understand how good of an opportunity this was but how it was still a harsh form of punishment. If he signed his name to this contract it would mean his prison sentence would be stayed, but he would effectively become property of the Empire. He would technically be free in ten years of service, but that would be after ten years of becoming entangled in the politics of the military and the Empire it served.

But it was still a choice that led to the possibility of freedom and not the certain death that Imperial prison promised for someone sentenced for so long. The xenophobia he would face on Coruscant for not being human would be better than the life-threatening beatings and fights he would face in prison as the most likely human guards turned a blind eye because he was some unknown alien species. He cared not for the Empire or its ideals, but only for his own life and his freedom.

He was grateful for his adoptive father and that he was able to give him a choice, but he will be on his own from here on out. This was the only way. 

Struggling through his restraints, Arthur took the stylus of the datapad and signed the contract with his name spelt in Cymraeg lettering, a last sign of defiance against the state that practically owned him. “This is only a temporary capitulation; I will be free once more and I will make up for the mistakes that I have made.”

His father took the datapad back and smiled slightly at his son’s small sign of defiance, “You certainly picked up my strong will and independence, but that will get you into more trouble than not while you are in the academy. Watch your back and don’t trust your instructors, they will purposely manipulate you to flunk out or conform as an Imperial citizen. Cymry cadets rarely do very in any of the Imperial academies due to our strong ties to our home world and fierce independent nature.”

Arthur figured just as much and knew he would face such difficulties since he had developed the same nature and habits from living all his living memory on Cymru. But he refused to be broken, he would merely bide his time and make it through this new Hell that waited for him.

Caedfal slipped the datapad into the pocket of his ornate cloak, said his farewell, and headed back to the door only to stop and looked back at Arthur. “How much did you owe Count Fynydd, by the way? He is the only one I can think of that would use kids to steal so much money.”

Arthur’s golden eyes widened with shame and struggled in his chair. “Err… roughly twenty-five million credits plus a twenty-five percent interest for stealing and wreaking his luxury star cruiser.”

“Good God in Heaven, that was you?” he went slack faced with shock.

“Er yeah. I lied about staying at Meinwen’s place that night,” he confessed shamefully, “There’s no way in Hell I would sleep alone in the same room as that crazy bitch, knowing what she would like to do me.”

His father shook his head with a cringing look on his face before he opened the secured door and locked it after he left.

Arthur spent the next four weeks in a cell on the Imperial military base seventy kilometres away from Caerdydd where he read holos of regulation manuals, policies, procedures, and laws that he would live to live by at the academy. Most of the enlisted men did not even bother to give him attention outside of delivering meals and escorting him for exercise. The lower ranked officers, on the other hand, were more than keen to spend the extra few minutes it would take to drop by his cell so they could make a few jibes at his inhuman ears, unaware of what else entailed his inhuman nature.

News also came to him that his fellow felons had been swiftly tried and convicted by the Royal Judiciary and the Imperial Magistrate, respectively. Talfryn had been sentenced to life in prison, Llywelyn had been enslaved and sent to a spice mine world, and Meinwen had been pressed into Imperial service for thirty years. Arthur only felt guilt over the fact that they were being punished while he got to go to the academy, but he knew that his position was not much better considering how he had practically been sentenced to the life of an Imperial puppet and a slave to Imperial ambitions.

He also spent plenty of time doing something that he would never have expected himself to partake in his entire life: meditation and self-reflection. His mysterious sixth sense surprisingly made it easier to relax into a meditative state and recall memories that he could reflect upon and contemplate his mistakes. As his father told him time and time again, one cannot move forward without knowing and understanding what was done wrong in the past.

One memory that stood out in particular and frequently emerged in his meditation sessions was that of a strange feeling he had developed the night before the final bank heist. When the gang had dispersed after their final planning session, Arthur had been overwhelmed by an unexplained and unwarranted sense of warning about the prospective heist, as though he knew something was going to awry on the morrow. There was also the underlying feeling that there was still a path ahead after the possible failure of the heist. He could not explain it and just chalked it up to his nerves getting to him.

As he reflected upon this memory, it brought up a similar one that took place the night before his first escapade with the gang that ended up indebting them to Count Fynydd. It was the same feeling of suspicion that warned him of something wrong was to come in the future. Further recollection and reflection with his mysterious sixth sense dug up an increasing amount of memories of sudden and irrational instincts that warned him about something that was to come. Until the last two major occurrences, he never questioned them nor thought much of the feelings and their implications, but went along with their advice and avoided messy situations. However, just like his regular memory, he could not recollect any memories from before he arrived on Cymru as a child, as though a memory block had been placed on his mind. He could not find any reason for it and would not have any time to spend in a deeper trance to try and bypass the block.

It was just more evidence that he had a very real, supernatural sixth sense that always seemed to guide him and aide him in different ways. He could not help but chuckle at the new addition of some factor that contributed to his inhuman nature. And none would really believe he truly had some psychic powers like this if he told them, so it was probably best he did not blab about it lest he wanted to end up in a different kind of prison. However, he did decide that these mysterious gut feelings had proven themselves to be worth listening should he encounter another, which was entirely possible considering the brutal and competitive nature of the military academy.

And so, his brief stint in the military came to a conclusion when a guard came one morning, escorted him to a shower, and threw him in with an academy uniform. “Get cleaned and dressed, your shuttle leaves from Caerdydd in two hours,” the stormtrooper ordered firmly in Imperial Basic.

He showered quickly and moved to get into the gaudy outfit that almost seemed childish for someone his age to be wearing. It consisted of a dull green double-breasted tunic with matching trousers, a black belt with a polished steel buckle, and polished black boots, which all made it not too dissimilar from a normal officer’s uniform but the addition of a collared cloak ruined the militaristic appearance. Arthur felt like a child wearing cosplay when he put it on, and even more so embarrassed when he stepped onto one of the capital’s public landing platforms. The outfit did not match any of the fashion styles that were common in Cymru and he could feel the eyes on him (both with his sixth sense and with natural paranoia) as he approached the shuttle that would take him and three other cadets to Coruscant.

His father waited patiently for him at the boarding ramp, a look of worry and sadness plagued his aged face. “I hope they did not mistreat you too much while you were imprisoned there,” he clapped his son on the shoulder.

Arthur could sense the old man’s overdriven nerves and worry, “It certainly wasn’t a five-star hotel, and the staff definitely left room for improvement,” he weakly joked to break the ice.

“They will only get worse when you reach Coruscant,” he warned darkly. “I have only been to the planet twice in my life and each time it proved to be a den of snakes and leeches that will stab you in the back at any given opportunity.”

“I expected just as much,” Arthur rasped with a blank expression.

“And I will warn you now, play by their game, their rules, and bide your time until you get out, but never become complacent,” his father had switched to Cymraeg to hide their conversation from the guards. “The Emperor, his cronies, and other schemers are constantly searching for reasons to undermine our autonomy. They will not hesitate to use you against your people or remove you from the equation if you become too much of a problem.”

“I understand, father,” he grimly replied with his tone subdued to keep the guards uninterested. “I’ll do my best to make up for mistakes, regain my honour, and make you proud.”

“We are a proud people, I would expect nothing less,” his father’s mood finally seemed to lighten up. He then switched back to Imperial Basic, “You are my son and heir, I know you will do your best and I will always be proud of you, just don’t make a fool out of too many of those snot-nosed Coruscanti brats. You already have plenty of enemies.”

Arthur manged to chuckle along with his father. He was going to miss the old man that he had grown to admire over the years, but thus was life and he had a path to follow. “Farewell, father.”

“Farewell, my son.”

After a final embrace with his father, he followed the guards and joined the other cadets waiting on the shuttle. Final pre-flight checks were completed and they were soaring off over the mountainous landscape that was their home, and all the cadets crowded around the windows to get a final glimpse before they escaped into the darkness of outer space. The stars out the port windows began to streak and they entered into the hyperspace that hurtled them towards Coruscant.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! Welcome to my first official Star Wars Fanfic! My name is Grandmaster Robin and I technically have been writing fanfiction for the last eight years. I've tried to write with Star Wars for years but nothing really seemed to catch my interest, reached dead ends, or seemed subpar to publishable standards. Like I said in my Summary, this story will mostly stick to Legends because screw Disney and their canon, but this is inspired by Claudia Gray's Lost Stars, but that and the last season of Clone Wars is all the Disney property that's canon in my fic. Anyway, I'll say this now because someone will certainly ask later, yes, Cymru is based off Wales (Cymru translates to Wales) and the greater Celtic sphere of influence and it will have a larger role down the line. Thanks for reading my personal project and please comment/ review to let me know how you like it and how I can improve it. -Robin out.


End file.
